


Don't Stand So Close To Me

by TheTinKicker



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTinKicker/pseuds/TheTinKicker
Summary: Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary is feeling depressed and lonely. One evening, an old flame shows up on his doorstep and Murdoch's religious and moral values are put to the test.
Relationships: Thomas Brackenreid/William Murdoch, William Murdoch/Julia Ogden
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. I Don't Know, Sir

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after the season 13 finale. Disclaimer: I do not own Murdoch Mysteries or any of the characters used for this story.

Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary studied his blackboard from the comfort of his office in Station House Number Four. He always used the board to map out details regarding a case to help him come to a conclusion. Be it from evidence gathered at a crime scene or from the testimony of a witness or a loved one; Murdoch was always successful in bringing the guilty to justice and getting the famous “ _great work, me ol’ mucker!_ ” compliment from Inspector Thomas Brackenreid.

However, this particular case was proving to be far more arduous to deduce for Detective Murdoch. There were names on the board, their occupations and plenty of space for more details to be added. There was a key difference this time.

This case was personal.

Murdoch became distracted by the sound of a chair scraping from the other side of the bullpen. He spun around and looked in the general direction of Inspector Brackenreid’s office. The red-haired Yorkshireman had shot out of his seat and was standing up straight, similarly to what he would’ve done when met with a superior officer in Afghanistan. However, this was Toronto and the only person who could strike that kind of discipline into Thomas Brackenreid was none other than his wife Margaret.

It was no secret that Brackenreid favoured the “occasional” drink at the office, nor was it unknown that Margaret had been a past member of the Temperance League. Murdoch recalled seeing a bottle of scotch in the Inspector’s hand which he’d rather not have allowed into Margaret’s sight. He knew it was bad form to stare but it was Murdoch’s job to observe and deduce. He wouldn’t have been very good at his job if it wasn’t second nature to him.

The Inspector had clearly attempted to shove the bottle into one of his drawers before standing promptly. However, it had been in vain and Murdoch could see Margaret shaking her head and turning back to leave the office. Brackenreid called after her but to no avail.

‘Bloody hell!’ he growled, crashing through the door of his office and stomping through the bullpen, towards Detective Murdoch himself. He spun back around to look at his blackboard and attempt to look busy, still hearing the sound of Brackenreid’s harsh footsteps grow ever closer.

Brackenreid stopped by the desks of Constables Higgins and Crabtree who’d also become drawn to the confrontation with Margaret. Detective Murdoch’s back was still turned but he could deduce what was happening behind him from what the Inspector said next;

‘WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU TWO LOOKING AT?!’ he barked angrily, his face likely boiling red. ‘GET ON WITH YOUR BLOODY JOBS OR GET OUT OF MY BLOODY STATION HOUSE! AND THAT GOES FOR ALL OF YOU!’

Murdoch heard the click of the Inspector’s freshly-polished shoes stopping in his doorway. He prayed that he would see him staring at the blackboard and presume he was too busy and not in a position to be disturbed.

‘Murdoch! Cracked it yet?’ he asked from behind him.

_Clearly not!_

‘Cracked it, sir?’ he asked, turning around to face his superior office, mentor and friend.

‘The case! Have you bloody cracked it, man?!’ Brackenreid snapped, his already-fragile patience diminishing further. Murdoch’s sightless deduction of the Inspector’s face growing red from frustration had not been inaccurate.

Constables Higgins and Crabtree’s faces were equally reddened, but from embarrassment. There must’ve been some comfort in the fact that the whole Station House had been effectively scolded. The occupants in the cells most likely heard it also but Murdoch doubted they’d have taken it personally.

‘Never mind them, _buggerlugs_!’ Brackenreid said sharply. His hands were shoved deeply into his pockets and he was awaiting an answer. Not having one rarely satisfied him. Murdoch could relate on that front.

‘Where you buggered it with Dr Ogden,’ Brackenreid then asked again. ‘What have you found, Detective Murdoch?!’

_Dr Julia Ogden. Where it all went wrong._

Those were the words written at the top of the board. It was the title Murdoch had given to this personal case. There were three people involved and their names were also added to the board.

_Dr Julia Ogden_

_Dr Andrew Dixon_

_Det. William Murdoch_

Murdoch had included himself on the list because he felt responsible in a way. He was the husband and although Julia’s marital attitudes were far more progressive, Murdoch – raised by the Jesuits of Nova Scotia – found it hard to turn his back on his beliefs. He should have seen it coming. He and Julia shared the passion involved in keeping the people safe, through different professions. Murdoch often required Julia’s expertise when it came to cases, even after her departure from her position as city coroner. However, they could never have proper in-depth discussions about their professions, even at home. Murdoch didn’t know what it was like to cut into bodies both living and dead or how details could be deduced from autopsies and Julia hardly knew what it took to uphold the law, effectively risking one’s own life. Constable Jackson and the recently-deceased Parker had both learnt that the hard way.

Dr Dixon and Julia had studied together to become surgeons and their professional relationship had become cemented after their joint effort to save the life of the Inspector’s son, John Brackenreid. It had been a success and the young man had decided law enforcement was no longer for him and made the respectable decision to leave. _Everyone must dance to their own tune_ , Murdoch figured after attending one of John’s stage performances as an actor, this time without having to solve a murder at the same time!

Naturally, Dixon and Ogden could have conversations and debates about the profession they shared. The older generation of officers such as Brackenreid and past Chief Constables still laughed at the idea of women joining the force. Murdoch quietly disagreed. He believed women to be just as capable mentally and physically. Society just took its sweet time. Until then, he could never have the same professional relationship with someone of the opposite gender that Julia had with Andrew Dixon.

Murdoch had also included himself on the blackboard because he wondered; _should I have seen this coming?_

‘Murdoch!’ Brackenreid roared, his patience at its wits’ end. ‘The buggering of your marriage to Dr Julia Ogden? Where did it go to smithereens?!’

Murdoch knew the answer before he even heard the scraping of the chair. It was there in plain sight. It was so obvious what he’d deduced that there was no need to include anything with the chalk in his right hand. _Nothing_. That’s what he’d concluded. It wasn’t because there was nothing to find, he just couldn’t find it. It was a rare and uncomfortable feeling that Murdoch never liked to admit to.

‘Sir, I-I,’ he stammered. Sweat was forming on his forehead and temples and he couldn’t comprehend what was happening to him. He never sweated, nor did he feel pressure increasing his body temperature. Brackenreid always pushed his men to get the job done but Murdoch had developed a thick skin to counter the ensuing pressure. _What was happening?!_

‘What?!’ Brackenreid barked once more.

The Inspector had been joined by Constables Higgins and Crabtree, whose heads were above his shoulders. In his peripheral vision, Murdoch could also see the other constables who’d just been berated by their superior gather outside the windows of the Detective’s office. Murdoch was effectively the centre of attention of a stage production. The audience had gathered and awaited him to say those dreaded words.

‘I don’t know, sir,’ Murdoch sighed, feeling deflated.

*

‘I don’t know, sir!’ Murdoch exclaimed, awakening from his dream. He panted and glanced around to check his surroundings now that he was back in his fully-conscious real world. The house’s interior lighting was on as the evening sky outside had dimmed. He’d been home from the station for at least three hours by now and had returned to an empty house.

Julia had undertaken night shifts for the week as an experiment to see whether she functioned better or not. Initially, Murdoch thought that some peace at home after a day at the Station House would be beneficial. All it did was remind him of how lonely his profession and life could be. Even when they were together, Murdoch felt a vast distance between himself and Dr Ogden.

He was in his armchair and had fallen asleep while reading a scientific text. He could already picture Brackenreid laughing. _That’s what scientific texts are for, me ol’ mucker! Cures for insomnia!_ Murdoch sighed and left the text on the table beside the armchair and got to his feet. He briefly considered turning in for the night but already knew that he would find it difficult to fall asleep without Julia beside him. He may have come across as an automaton on the outside but Murdoch was still human deep down just like everyone else and had the same needs. Even the Jesuits of Nova Scotia couldn’t change that.

An evening walk perhaps? It was too late for that. The sun had already cast its final reflection over Lake Ontario before disappearing fully. Even if he had taken a stroll to enjoy the natural luxury of sunset, it would only burn the thought more firmly into his brain – that the sun had set on his marriage.

He then became distracted by the sudden knocking on the door. It wasn’t pounding which eliminated the prospect of it being Inspector Brackenreid. He was likely suffering through his evening dinner while Margaret talked endlessly about her day, whether she was asked to or not. Murdoch couldn’t remember the last time he had dinner with the Brackenreids but the Inspector had described his dinners with explicit detail for the sake of venting for Murdoch to come to his own conclusions.

‘Constable Crabtree, perhaps?’ he asked himself quietly as he approached the door in his waistcoat. George was on his book tour, meaning Constable Higgins had to cover his duties as well as his own. At least he was no longer moonlighting as a cab driver which had led to a lack of sleep and serious plummet in his work standard.

Murdoch opened the door and found himself being propelled back ten years. A full decade. He was running through the streets of Bristol, England. He had no memory and was being chased. He needed a place to hide and couldn’t remember anyone to turn to. He opened the doors of a local pub and there she was. The blond curls, the smirk and the warm, caring atmosphere that surrounded her. It was as if she had her own gravitational pull that brought in every bit of kindness a human being could possibly muster. Sacrificing her life in England and business in the process, she helped Murdoch remember his goal and then ultimately achieve it. After two more reunions, the most recent resulting in her death being faked to save her life – Murdoch didn’t expect to see or hear from her again. It was for her own safety naturally and at the time he thought Julia was his one true love and chose to continue his pursuit of the Doctor.

Now she was standing in his doorway in a respectable and conservative green outfit. She raised her head slightly so her hat wouldn’t block Murdoch’s view of her face. He would’ve recognised her instantly regardless.

‘Hello, William,’ the Englishwoman smirked.

‘Anna Fulford?’ Murdoch gasped. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘Nice to see you too!’ she giggled.

‘What if someone sees you here?’

‘You needn’t worry, William. I know how to be very careful and I chose to walk here by myself instead of taking a cab.’

Murdoch’s eyes widened. ‘You walked the streets at night by yourself?! What if some degenerate saw you and something happened to you?!’ he suddenly snapped.

There was a gasp and the happiness and excitement drained from Anna’s face. Now it was one of disappointment, embarrassment and pure sadness. There was a tear forming in the corner of her eye.

‘Please don’t be upset with me William!’ she whispered, shaking her head. ‘I just wanted to surprise you because I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I’ve been missing you profusely over the years and just wanted to check in to see how you were doing. I’m sorry I ruined your evening, please excuse me.’

She turned to walk away with her head hanging and Murdoch took her gently by the arm to stop her. She paused and turned around. There was no anger or upset expression on his face. Perhaps she misinterpreted it in the beginning or the expression had certainly faded. Anna Fulford was now seeing pain and misery behind the eyes she’d once looked into for a sense of comfort and security. William always knew what to do but now he didn’t.

Anna no longer felt ashamed of her timing. It had been perfect. He was having a horrible evening and her favourite Toronto Detective needed someone. Anna Fulford was just that someone! She placed her hand on the side of his face. She was wearing soft white gloves and Murdoch closed his eyes from the feeling of instant warmth and comfort. _I’m here William and if you want me to stay, I will._

Then the voice of Father Keegan, Murdoch’s mentor as a boy, filtered into his head. It was a chilly night, she had just walked through the dangerous and darkened streets and Anna Fulford was still outside when she could be safe and sound inside Murdoch’s house. _Leaving a defenceless lady to the mercy of the night. Will, you know better than that!_ William Murdoch believed he deserved the subconscious scolding and immediately invited Anna inside. He looked up and down the street before closing the door.

He stepped into the centre of the room where Anna was looking all around to see the home Murdoch had created for himself. She nodded with approval at the modern house. Then the woman from Bristol nodded towards the armchairs used by Murdoch and Julia. Naturally Murdoch settled into his own one while Anna sat beside him and removed her hat and gloves.

‘What’s wrong William? You can talk to me. I’m here for you,’ she then asked, leaning over and placing her bare hand on his. There was still a sense of chill from outside but Murdoch turned his palm upwards to accept the gesture.

Of course Anna Fulford was there for him. Their bond was unbreakable, even the circumference of the earth couldn’t make a difference. Murdoch had killed a man to protect her and would do so hundreds of times over and over again if it meant keeping Miss Fulford safe. She was under his roof now and effectively safe, which gave him the comfort he needed to open up.

‘Anna, it’s been so long I cannot think of where to start, being truthful,’ he sighed, looking down ashamed of the fact that he didn’t know the answer. It was his job to know!

Anna Fulford squeezed William Murdoch’s hand. ‘Don’t be such a silly goose! Start at the beginning, William. I always find that’s the best place.’


	2. Peeping Toms

‘Where is she now?’ Anna Fulford asked with a mixed expression and tone of sympathy for her darling William and contempt for Julia, the woman she thought she knew. Anyone who would even think of betraying him and his trust didn’t deserve her respect as far as Anna was concerned. 

Murdoch was sitting upright in the armchair. He’d only just finished his summary of the past eight years. The Darcy Garland saga, accompanied by those of James Gillies and Eva Pearce. His marriage to Julia naturally had to be included, along with the ups, downs and the most recent low points such as  _the killing dose_ and her recent revelation about her infatuation with Dr Andrew Dixon. 

‘She’s undertaking a night-shift at the hospital,’ he answered, initially relaxed. However, it turned to alarm when he saw Anna nod while looking at her hands. She was slipping them back into her white gloves and Murdoch became even more shocked when she cracked her knuckles and rose out of the armchair. 

‘Anna!’ he exclaimed, also rising and taking her arm to stop her. She spun her head around and Murdoch could read the anger in the Englishwoman’s eyes. ‘I hope you’re not planning on doing what I think you’re planning to do?’ 

‘What do you think? Here you are miserable and she gets to carry on as if she’s done nothing wrong,’ she said. 

‘They were urges, just like every human being has,’ Murdoch said, recalling what he’d said to Julia following her revelation. He too had his moments of looking at other women. He assured her that he was okay with recent events, however he admittedly meant very little of what he said at the time and doubted he did now. He just wanted to keep Miss Fulford out of the cells of Station House Four. ‘Anna, they were mere feelings and she didn’t act upon them.’ 

‘She told you that, did she?’ Anna sighed, chuckling and shaking her head. ‘If I had a penny for every man that told me that!’ 

‘Anna!’ Murdoch gasped, struggling to think of what to say next to persuade her to restrain herself. He also fought the temptation to ask her about her history with these “men”. 

‘I’m going over to that hospital and giving that “darling” wife of yours a piece of my mind,’ she insisted, implying it wasn’t just her mind of which she wanted to give Julia a piece. 

‘You’ll be charged with assault and brought to one of Toronto’s Station Houses, most likely Four. Inspector Brackenreid will know you’re alive and that we collaborated to fake your death in front of our officers and those of Station House Five. I could lose my job once this goes to the Chief Constable and my future with look incredibly bleak. You say you care for me Anna and you’ve undoubtedly shown that to me multiple times. Do you really want to be responsible for all of this?’ 

‘I’ll  _most likely_ end up in Station House Four? Are you really threatening to arrest me yourself?’ 

‘I am an officer of the law and sworn to uphold it,’ Murdoch then shrugged with great confidence. 

‘So, you were standing by that oath without question when you helped falsify my death and lied to a superior officer?’

‘Are you threatening to blackmail me?’ Murdoch suddenly snapped. This unexpected and rare side to him made Anna jump and tremble. 

‘What? No!’ she spluttered with a shocked  _how could you_ expression on her face. A tear formed at the corner of her left eye. ‘I’m saying that when it comes to something or  _someone_ you care deeply about, you don’t stick to the law like some...’ 

‘Automaton?’ 

She nodded and took him by the arms. ‘If you want me to stay, darling, of course I’ll respect your wishes. You know I’ll always have love for you, William Murdoch.’ 

He raised his eyebrows. 

‘Come come, you silly goose! You cannot be surprised?’ Anna giggled innocently and placing a gloved hand on his face. 

‘It’s been eight years,’ Murdoch whispered. 

‘And no matter how long the years or how great the distance on this earth, my love for you hasn’t diminished one bit. Surely that must mean something to you?’ 

Murdoch stammered before swallowing dryly and admitting he didn’t know what to say. He was effectively out of words. Anna assured him he didn’t need to say anything to convince her those feelings were at least somewhat mutual. As far as Anna Fulford was concerned, “somewhat mutual” was far more preferable to “non-existent” and a wasted return to Toronto. She leaned in for a kiss and Murdoch instinctively placed his hands on her shoulders to restrain her. He looked down, hanging his head and sighing through his nostrils. 

‘Anna, I must remain faithful to my wife,’ he said, looking back into the Englishwoman’s eyes. 

‘Despite what she’s done?’ 

‘I would be a hypocrite if I allowed this to happen while condemning her actions.’ 

Anna looked down, feeling ashamed of herself. Perhaps she should’ve taken it considerably slower. Now she’d buggered it. Fantastic job! 

‘You’re staying true to your values and I’ll respect that, William. I’m staying in Toronto nonetheless and I can only hope for your friendship at the very least?’ she asked, looking up. 

Murdoch placed a finger under her chin and gently raised it to prompt her to raise her head and told her to look on the bright side. She smirked in response, there was still hope. Surely if she stuck around, the temptation would overwhelm him? Murdoch was as human and vulnerable as everyone else. 

‘I’m staying at the Windsor House Hotel, under a different name, naturally.’ 

‘An excellent choice,’ Murdoch nodded, briefly reminiscing of his and Julia’s extended stay there prior to their purchase of the Murdoch Home. ‘Allow me to escort you back to your hotel, Anna. The streets of Toronto are not safe at this late hour – you can take my word for it.’ 

Anna paused, before bringing her elbow out for Murdoch to bring his arm around. He took his hat and jacket while they walked to the door. Anna allowed him to don both the jacket and hat on the doorstep before continuing with their arms interlocked. 

Murdoch saw little harm in escorting a lady to her home, apartment or hotel. It was the proper way for a gentleman to behave. What was the world coming to if this was to be construed as inappropriate or improper? Feeling the warmth from Anna Fulford’s arm and her general presence reminded him of what he’d sorely missed with Julia. 

Now was not the time to think about that, he then decided. He wanted to enjoy the time he was spending with Miss Fulford, time he never thought he would ever get to spend prior to this evening. Murdoch was succumbing to tunnel vision as he and Anna proceeded to walk, generally relaxed to be in each other’s company. He was focused entirely on Anna and the mission to ensure she returned to the Windsor House Hotel safe and sound. 

*

The focus had been as such that Detective Murdoch failed to realise he and Anna were passing by Inspector Brackenreid’s house. They were in full view for Mrs Margaret Brackenreid to see them from the bedroom window and gasp audibly with her hand to her mouth, causing the Inspector himself to mutter ‘bloody hell!’ 

The Brackenreids were both in their bedclothes and Thomas sprung out of bed to join Margaret by the window. 

‘It’s Detective Murdoch!’ she shrieked. 

‘A bit bloody late for a visit isn’t it?’ he muttered, before seeing first-hand what Margaret had meant. The Detective had been escorting a lady down the street, but Dr Ogden was supposed to be working a night-shift at the hospital. ‘Can’t be the missus,’ he then said. By now, they’d passed the footpath leading up to the Brackenreids’ front door and therefore the woman’s face could not be made out. 

‘It wasn’t Julia, Thomas! I saw her face before they walked past and it wasn’t Julia! He is completely disregarding his vows. I was there when he made them before her. I planned the wedding!’ 

Brackenreid rolled his eyes. It was rather difficult to forget Margaret’s stint as a wedding planner. However, he was as shocked as she was to see Murdoch, whom he’d always known for his god-fearing values, carrying on with another woman. The Detective and his female friend’s backs were firmly turned to the Brackenreids as they turned right and crossed the street. 

‘I must tell Julia!’ Margaret insisted, drawing the curtains once more. 

‘She’s working.’ 

‘Not now! First thing in the morning,’ she nodded firmly, passing right by the Inspector and returning to bed. He poked his hand through the curtains and opened them ever so slightly to take a second look. Murdoch and his mystery female companion were out of sight. 

‘Thomas!’ Margaret shrieked from the bed. 

‘What?!’ he barked back, spinning around. 

‘Stop staring out of the window! What will the neighbours think?’ 

‘I was just doing what you...’

‘They’re no longer there! The neighbours will think you’re spying on one of them! Don’t be such a-a,’ Margaret interrupted, stammering at the end at a sudden loss for words. 

‘A what?’ he bellowed. 

‘A Peeping Tom!’ 

‘A P...a Peeping Tom?! You’re accusing your own husband of perversion? Need I remind you of the time that HP Lovecraft wouldn’t leave you alone? Compared to that bloody nutter I’m surely playing with the full deck?!’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Margaret hissed, ‘you’ll wake the boys! Close those curtains and come back to bed.’

Brackenreid wanted to keep going but ultimately he did as Margaret instructed.  _‘Story of me bloody life!’_ he sighed to himself as his head landed gently back onto the pillow. He still could scarcely believe what he’d seen.  _What the bloody hell are you up to me ol’ mucker? What about Dr Ogden? After everything you’ve both been through to get this far?_

A thought occurred to the law enforcement veteran. 

‘What were you doing by the window in the first place, anyway?’ he asked, glancing over at Margaret. Her back was turned, her dark hair sprawled over her pillow. The moonlight from outside was breaking through the gaps in the curtains. 

‘I was restless,’ she replied bluntly. 

‘Restless?’ 

She nodded verbally. 

‘Anything I can help with,  _Mrs Brackenreid_ ?’ he asked, deliberately adding a mischievous and playful tone. 

‘Very well,’ she said after a five-second pause to catch him off-guard. He was always so adorable in her eyes during such situations. Margaret knew her Thomas only too well. She turned around in the bed, revealing an equally mischievous grin. ‘Remember when you painted with me as your subject in your office?’ 

‘As if I could forget?’ he said with raised eyebrows and a smirk. Was this really happening? Perhaps being woken up from an early night he promised himself wasn’t such a total waste after all. 

‘It took the artist within you every fibre of his being not to have his way with me,’ she whispered, moving in closer. ‘Here we are in our bed without the risk of being overheard or seen. So tonight are you  _Monsieur Brackenreid_ or  _Mister Brackenreid_ ?’ 

‘Don’t need to ask me twice,’ the Inspector said in his strong Yorkshire accent, leaning in towards Margaret. Ten minutes of playful giggling followed before they threw the sheets over themselves. 

*

Murdoch accompanied Fulford as far as the lobby and wished her a good night. The area was largely unoccupied and none of the few available faces were familiar. Anna asked if there was any way she could tempt him to keep her company for the night. Murdoch politely reaffirmed his loyalty to Julia Ogden, in spite of recent events. Anna informed him of her room number and already remembered the number of his office telephone. They parted ways and he found himself back in the cool Toronto night air. 

He was completely unaware of yet another pair of eyes watching him from a parked horse and carriage. An auto-mobile would’ve been too obvious. The driver was awaiting instructions from the single passenger hidden within the carriage’s interior. He kept his eye on Murdoch as he looked in both directions and crossed the street. The passenger shifted to the opposite side of the bench and watched as Murdoch disappeared around the corner. 

It was too early to act just yet. More reconnaissance was required. Following Murdoch was unnecessary since he spent most of his life at Station House Four anyway. 

‘It’s been too long, Detective Murdoch,’ he muttered, before instructing the driver to depart immediately, leaving the Detective  alone,  for now. 


End file.
